Use Somebody
by SEEKER-2000
Summary: The laboratory was by its very nature a place of discovery. Trial and error, experimentation."...Spock & Uhura are found out by another professor at the academy, & the repercussions he brings are far worse than any Starfleet punishment. DARK, violence.
1. Hypothesis

**Use Somebody**

**Part One: Hypothesis **

**Disclaimer: I bought Star Trek with my bailout money. **

The laboratory was by its very nature a place of discovery. Trial and error, experimentation.

…And that was exactly what the tall commander and his young cadet assistant were using it for.

Discovery.

Trial and error.

Experimentation.

They were honoring the scientific method.

Question: What happens when you combine the lust of human with the intensity of a Vulcan?

Hypothesis: A chemical reaction of a highly volatile nature.

Spock and Nyota were merely testing the hypothesis like good scientists. It had begun innocently enough. She really did need to come by his lab to make sure they were still going to meet that night. He legitimately had to get ahead on a few tedious projects in said laboratory. However, as most of their interactions had been ended lately, there lingered a desperation between them in privacy.

It was only to be expected, of course, if you allowed for the fact that the two had been dancing around their attraction for several months before both parties finally came to terms to their feelings. Nyota had tried accepting the fact that her feelings would never be returned, and Spock had tried desperately to ignore the fact that he had feelings in the first place. Both overachievers, the pair had made an honest go of denying the obvious. This was the first dabble in failure on both their parts, but a new and exciting kind of failure.

So, there they were, in some sort of strange secret relationship, completely taboo and absolutely unprecedented, falling faster and harder than either had anticipated, handicapped by a finite amount of places they could be alone together.

And there was an empty laboratory.

2 plus 2 equals 4 after all.

Math, you understand. Lots of math. It tended to go hand and hand with science. Adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing the ways to make the other unable to function.

And if Nyota's calculations were correct, she was close to a breakthrough of Spock's control.

She wriggled in his lap, which made Spock break their kiss to take a deep breath. His eyes rolled back in his head involuntarily and Spock forced himself to resist the very Vulcan urge to push her off, to end the closeness. This space invasion devestated the half of him that couldn't find a reason for it. Sometimes Nyota overwhelmed him past the point of seeing, making colors appear before his eyes, his senses unused to such an overload. No one truly understood the color orange or appreciate the subtle passion of blue unless they had been kissed by Nyota Uhura, it was safe to say.

After a moment passed he came back down to Earth, and that long subdued humanity inside found a prideful vengeance in pulling her closer, bending her neck to kiss the skin down to her collarbone. He fisted the material of her uniform at her shoulders. Moments earlier his logic had been screaming "look, don't touch," and now it was begging desperately for him to "touch, don't taste". If he wasn't careful, and if his hands found her delicate zipper, he was sure the logic would be screaming for him to "taste, don't feel" very soon.

Spock's ministrations made Nyota slightly lose her balance, a hand jerking out to grab the lab table behind him. Her fingertips brushed a glass vile of something that was probably important to Spock a few minutes ago, but when it crashed to the ground and shattered, Spock was too busy forgetting himself in her to care. They couldn't keep doing this forever, though, as the intensity of his logic-less feelings starting burning the back of his mind. Spock needed to catch his breath, reign himself in. He stopped kissing her and rested his head against her heart. Searching through his mental vocabulary, Spock chose words to describe the warmth inside himself. Content, he decided, was the most appropriate. They really couldn't let this progress any farther than it had already, but Spock didn't want to remove himself from that moment.

She rested her chin on top of his head, twirling some of his hair between her fingers. This was one of his usual "that was an adequate experience, but please allow me to process everything, Nyota" breaks. It was hard sometimes to be patient with him, but in the moments that Spock gave himself over to her completely it made all the rest worth it. She thought of his control of emotion like being allergic to the sun. It wasn't that the Vulcan couldn't appreciate the appeal of warm rays, but a burn was still a burn and best to be avoided. She tried to shade him as best as she could.

"Love you," she muttered, kissing the top of his head. He said nothing, of course. Some might be offended by the silence, but those people would assume silence was a negative reply or a non-answer. Until he told her "Nyota, I do not love you," she could fill in the blanks all on her own, thank you very much.

"We had plans for the evening." Spock finally spoke.

Nyota smiled. "There is something to be said about spontaneity."

"Indeed."

She tilted his head up, looking into the deep pools of his eyes. Spock only stared back, blank faced, but not in a cold way. He was hardly innocent, but there was an unassuming nature about him that Nyota loved. Loyalty, trust, and devotion were as ingrained into his genetics as the color of his skin and eyes. Once, she told him that it seemed to her that he had the best of both worlds, his human characteristics being those of true quality, if not quantity. Spock had raised an eyebrow at this, and she wasn't sure if he was more confused at the idea that he actually had humanity within him or at the suggestion that his dual heritage was a compliment.

Gently, Spock kissed her again. This kiss was more tentative, a test of his control. As it deepened, Nyota heard the laboratory door swish and open. Spock jerked away from her and sat rigid in his chair as if bracing himself for an attack. He stared over her shoulder. Even with her heart sinking in panic, Nyota turned her body to their intruder.

"Did something crash?" Commander Thompson's, another science instructor, began, but his mouth snapped shut. Frozen in the doorway with a look of total shock etched onto his face, Nyota watched in horror as he punched the keypad by the door, making it close. "No exit," her mind screamed.

Thompson's expression changed from one of shock to that of smugness. "Well, don't let me interrupt this show of passionate emotion, Spock."

A great rush of air flooded from her lungs, and Nyota began realizing the flaws of spontaneity—the inability to predict the outcome of situations.

**

* * *

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**Edit!!!! Changed the name of this fic from Wicked Game to Use Somebody after I found out there's another fic with that name. K? Awesome.**

**Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this. It will be a short fic, probably only 3-4 chapters in length. Please review! They make me write faster...like crack! Yay, and illegal substance reference. Thanks for all your support on my other fics, the Boldly Go series. **


	2. Take Advantage

**Use Somebody**

**Part Two: (Take) Advantage**

**Disclaimer: I own Star Trek. Yeah, I said it. What? Big ballin. Make that money, don't let it make you!**

It took all of Spock's formal training to quell the embarrassment and panic that was burning him from the inside out.

He focused a strict gaze on Nyota, who was slowly but surely sliding off of his lap. "Go."

When she started to protest, Spock emphatically repeated his command. "Cadet, go. Now."

Her eyes were wide with fear but Spock couldn't let the emotional need to calm her impede what had to happen. Her movements were jerky as she backed slowly away from him as if waiting for a retraction on his part. However, Spock had turned his attention to the larger problem, the fellow commander who was watching the scene unfold with smug bemusement. The two stared each other down until Nyota pressed the keypad by the door and left the laboratory.

After a moment, Commander Thompson looked at the ceiling as if expected there to be an answer there as to what had just transpired.

"What the hell are you thinking, Spock?"

Thinking? What did thinking have to do with affection? With Nyota? Spock understood the concept of thinking very well, as that was how he has spent the majority of his life, and his relationship obviously had nothing to do with that action whatsoever, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten into it in the first place. They were going against regulations, he was going against tradition and training. There was certainly no thinking involved. He often pondered if perhaps he was so tired of indulging his "thinking" that he gave his relationship with Nyota more importance than logically warranted.

"I have difficulty developing a sufficient answer for you."

Spock stood up, straightening his uniform as best he could to restore whatever dignity he had left. Thompson clicked his tongue and approached him, making Spock feel like an animal trapped in the corner of a cage.

"What shade is that?" Thompson smirked, pointing at a place on Spock's face.

Running his fingertips along the place the commander indicated, Spock felt an oily residue on the skin at the corner of his mouth. He pulled his hands back to find a smudge of pink pressed into the design of his fingerprint. Lipstick. Spock stared for a moment at the way the makeup stained his identity, highlighting the unique pattern that marked him as different from every other man in the universe.

"Looks like pretty in pink, Mr. Spock."

"Commander Thompson," Spock began, but Thompson held up a hand to stop him midsentence. He leaned seriously against a cabinet and looked at Spock wearily, adjusting his glasses while he searched for words.

With a sigh, the Commander finally spoke. "You must cease the relationship at once."

Spock looked at the ground briefly before realizing that such an expression made him look weak, like he was being admonished by his father. If any situation required for him to be a man, it was this one. Straight backed, tall, looking his consequences directly in the eye. Bringing his eyes back up to meet Thompson's, Spock tried to think of a proper way to reply. However, just behind Thompson, Nyota's bag was still resting on the cabinet where she had propped as she came in. That was enough to break his resolve again. What was it with this woman always leaving things behind to remind him that he couldn't just forget her?

"Commander," Spock began, but his tongue felt thick. There was no real answer to give Thompson, and Spock was resolved to tell the truth. "I am not sure if I can..."

Thompson squinted at him like he would a strange insect under a microscope.

"Hell man, you're a Vulcan, the idea that you of all people would go against regulation like this…"

"It is indeed highly illogical…"

The idea of Vulcan impropriety, not commonly used against him by a human, stung. He couldn't please the world, it seemed. If he'd been a human, would the Commander be giving him "high fives"? Probably not, Spock decided after registering his illogical thought as that of useless sarcasm. Thompson was still a Starfleet commander and as such surely respected his place just as much as Spock did. They had a duty and a name to uphold.

Thompson reached out his arms and pushed Spock back into the seat he'd previously been occupying, and Spock couldn't help but feel like a child once more. It was the same way his father would always speak to him, placing him at a lower level somehow to show his dominance. Thompson crossed his arm though and frowned, a very human expression.

"…Look, I'm not talking to you as a commander, I'm talking to you as a friend…As someone who has watched you work harder than anyone else to get to where you're at…If someone finds out about this, you will be rung across coals…"

Spock let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "It seems, commander, that someone _has_ found out about this…"

Thompson shook his head. "…And you better be damn glad it was me that found out and not someone else…"

That was not a phrasing Spock had anticipated. "Are you suggesting you will not inform--"

"No one is going to hear about this from me, Spock. You're too good, too vital to Starfleet. I can't in good conscious deny it one of the brightest minds we've ever come across because he's young and likes a girl."

Spock resisted the urge to blush and remained passive, staring the commander down. For the first time ever, Spock wondered if this is how his students that complained of him being condescending felt. Logic spoke up and told his somewhat indignant humanity that there was much worse things that could happen as a consequence of his actions than being talked down to.

"But let me make myself very clear…I think you have to end this. I'm not going to make you, that's your business…But you should use your head. This is your career, her career too. It's a lot of work to throw away."

The commander shrugged, his graying hair falling a little into his eyes. Spock didn't know what to say. The panic that had flooded him at his intimate intrusion was still there but not nearly as rallied as before. Was he going to, as the Terrans said, get away with it Scott free? Before he could question the commander further on what action he planned to take, Thompson was shrugging and heading for the door.

"Be sure to clean up that mess," he commented, pointing briefly to the vile of liquid that Nyota had knocked off the desk.

Spock was speechless. The only thing he knew to do now was find Nyota.

* * *

Commander Thompson was what his friends referred to as a "tricky fellow" and what his enemies labeled a "real son of a bitch". When even your friends have difficulty phrasing your characteristics in a positive light, the bluntness of an enemy is usually more accurate.

An average student, dedication and brownnosing got him a steady professorship and he really had no aspirations for anything more rigorous. He documented his favors to others in a little journal kept in the top drawer of his desk, and made sure they paid up when he needed them. He called it Karma.

It was also important to note just how much Thompson liked things. Not simply enjoyed, but coveted and desired. Thompson liked a drink before work. He liked the way his uniform brought out the color of his eyes. He liked to watch old 20th century television. He liked cursing in front of soldiers and praying in front of nuns.

He also liked power. He liked leaning over his female students desks. He liked writing "see me after class" at the top of a pretty girl's paper.

He liked taking naïve but talented students and novice commanders under his wing to see how far he could bend them.

But, more than anything, he absolutely fucking _adored_ putting offworlders in their place. Starfleet was supposed to be an institution of acceptance and discovery, a prep school for universal peace. However, Thompson was the type to laugh inwardly through every sensitivity training session, scoff at every planet to planet treaty. Peace couldn't exist in a universe where beings couldn't even agree on units of measure. Best to back your own kind and keep a phaser set to stun for the inevitable moment when some green or purple or highlighter yellow creature who'd skipped a step in evolution decided to pounce.

So, when Thompson found Spock, the half-Vulcan abomination pressed close to the bosom of a good old fashioned human girl, he had to swallow back bile. Thompson tolerated Spock and even pretended to mentor the distinctive graduate for the sole purpose of keeping a handy tool around when necessary. He kept all of his computers on standby, after all. That was the only way he could accept Spock's presence, though. The Vulcan had to be placed in the category of his mind he usually reserved for science equipment, and if some of the other Starfleet professors were honest with themselves, they thought of Spock the same way. Toleration could be allowed for some races of aliens if they could behave in a proper manner, but there was something so disgusting about the idea of a human laying with one of those elves and procreating that rendered Thompson physically ill.

He wasn't naïve. It might not be popular now or completely accepted, but eventually as years passed and barriers were broken down, more and more Vulcans and Humans would intermingle and attempt to do just as Spock's parents had. Sure, he could accept that Spock was able to function, but that was just about it. Breathe, eat, compute. For all Thompson knew, Spock could be mentally defunct in other areas. What the fuck was he doing with a human girl?

Crossbreeding and mixing, serving up modified genetics with a smile and a nod as if there was nothing ungodly about it at all. If that was the future face of humanity, Thompson gave a hearty no thanks and hoped he died before the whole of Earth was spotted with one eyed, one horned, flying, purple people eaters. Not to mention the social liberties that would be parroted through the media, half breeds demanding their equal piece of Earth freedom, coming to his home planet and exploiting it when theirs was no longer viable, claiming rights. What about good old fashioned humanity? It would be a 21st Century immigration battle all over again.

Thompson decided within a split second how this was all going to go down between him and Spock. Best show a loyal face, at first of course. He did what he best—acted like the tricky son of a bitch that he was, and played with his food. He knew the computer boy would submit to logic in the end, and Thompson would get to have a little bit of blackmail he could use at a future date.

But then suddenly, as Thompson made his way across the campus, a much more interesting idea struck him. He remembered that Spock wasn't the only person involved in this tryst. Two for the price of one, or maybe just a bonus. Either way, Thompson glanced at his watch and realized the night was young. With almost a skip in his step, he headed back to his own office.

He sat down at the large oak desk and opened his drawers, looking around for his box of mints. Popping two, Thompson quickly sent a message out to…he scanned his mind for a moment, trying to remember the pretty girl's name…Uhota? No…Uhura. Yes. That was it.

Once the message was sent, Thompson leaned back in his chair and played the waiting game.

* * *

**Author's Note: Regarding the reviews—While the idea of Spock and Uhura getting caught is somewhat amusing, I don't warn that a story will be "DARK" unless I mean just that. If you get the type of character Thompson is, he really is capable of just about anything, and I do mean anything, so you have been warned. Nothing to raise ratings, but there will be violence, and I'm not sugar. Also, on that note, this will be a T rated fic and I won't be doing any smut. I'm no good at it. My style when it comes to love scenes it to put actions into words. Sexuality is messy, but you can play with diction and syntax in order to create something pretty. I like my readers to get all the mental pictures they need from what vocabulary I choose to use and the rhythm with which I write. Sorry folks, that is as explicit as I get, but I hope it's all still steamy.**


	3. Fight or Flight

**Use Somebody**

**Fight or Flight**

Humans have a tendency to hide when they are afraid. It is a natural instinct, one of self preservation, an aspect of the "fight or flight" impulse when adrenaline begins coursing through the veins. Perhaps that was the intention of the young cadet when she sprinted across the Academy grounds, trying to outrun inevitability, which is always a fearsome predator. The inevitable close of her and Spock's relationship, the inevitable end of her career in Starfleet, the inevitable realization that she was a fool for ever believing there were secrets that could be kept.

He had told her to **go**, and so she went. She wasn't sure if she could refuse him if she tried, and so she ran.

For a brief moment, as her boots slapped along the pavement, Nyota contemplated throwing a look over her shoulder to see what Inevitability looked like. Would it be like death wearing a black cloak, calmly walking to collect? Or perhaps more like the legendary beasts of her Africa that rivaled the wind in their speedy attacks. However the tragedy of Eurydice and Orpheus taught a great lesson in looking back, so Nyota kept her pace and sped as fast as she could to a spot where she could hide in peace.

She flung herself into her dormitory, a fleeting exultation mentally thrown to the heavens that Gaila was nowhere to be seen. With nowhere else to run, Nyota fell beside her bed and brought her knees up to her chest, her breathing heavy from the run.

"_You're ruined_," she thought. "_He's ruined. You played with fire, and you spilt the gasoline_."

Pressing a hand to her mouth, Nyota tried to calm herself, taking a steady breath that shook on its exhalation. A million thoughts raced through her mind, all conflicting voices, all her own.

"_No, You don't know that. There are always loopholes…stay calm…"_

"_You screwed up this time, Nyota Uhura."_

"_Just wait for Spock…Don't jump to conclusions…"_

"_Spock? Logical Spock…who's logic would tell you that this would be a time to panic…"_

"_How could we have been so stupid?"_

Their reputations would be destroyed, and your reputation was the greatest thing of value in Starfleet. She'd be labeled a whore for sleeping with a professor, a woman who'd could get nowhere if not for a man to help her up the ladder a bit. He'd be the perverted, manipulative green blooded monster that took advantage of his power, because you can't ever really trust an outworlder. Where would she go? How many years of her life had she spent building to this specific career path? And what about Spock? This kind of embarrassment brought on Spock's shoulders would be exactly the kind of disappointment the half-Vulcan had been running from his entire life.

"He's not running from disappointment. He's running from inevitability too," she thought. His Vulcan fellows had only ever expected him to fail; this would hardly be a disappointment—when the humanity within finally negated his logic.

In mid-thought, Nyota heard the whirl of a new message on her computer. She rose stiffly, prepared to accept the inevitable standing, not cowering on the floor like a child afraid of the boogieman.

* * *

The trip to Commander's Thompson's office felt like the walk of death. When she entered, he was there at his desk looking over a PADD with an air of indifference. Upon realizing she was there, Thompson grinned wide like a Cheshire cat at straightened out tall in his seat.

"Ah…Cadet Uhura. Thank you for arriving in such a timely fashion. I was worried you were going to ignore the message," Thompson paused, and smirked. "And then, well, I'd have to come find you."

Uhura swallowed hard. "Commander…I wouldn't ever ignore a ranking officer's message."

"That's good. That's good. Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"

"Yes, sir."

Uhura sat down in the chair opposite his desk. Thompson rose from his seat and began mulling casually around the room as though bored. He picked up a small trinket from his shelf, a strange stone, and rolled it around in his hands before speaking.

"Now, after that little scene earlier with my boy Spock, I do have to say I have some worries."

"Sir--"

He turned on the spot and held a finger up to his lips, a small grin forming on his face.

"Shh, Uhura. Let the adults speak. So…Did you trip, slip, or fall onto the Commander's lap this evening?"

Nyota blushed. "No, sir."

Commander Thompson shrugged, putting the stone back on the shelf. "Well that's good. I was concerned about your inner ear. Tricky little thing, causes all types of motor function issues. Don't want you getting sloppy, falling all over the academy."

Traipsing lightly back over to the desk, Thompson settled on the edge of it. He loomed over her with a cheeky expression, grey hair falling into his face. Uhura thought he looked like an old school principal about to dish some bit of punishment that didn't fit the crime, just for the hell of it.

"Now…Did you perhaps find yourself under a spell, some sort of magic or voodoo, or perhaps even hoodoo? A little different than voodoo, of course."

"Sir, this is not an amusing discussion to me," She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly grateful her uniform wasn't low cut. He was devouring her with his eyes.

"It's not amusing to me either, Cadet." Thompson smiled. He took her chin in one hand and tilted her face as if to examine her under the light better. This action caused the Nyota's heart to sink straight to the bottom of her stomach.

"I am merely trying to figure out just how a pretty girl like you found herself wrapped around a Vulcan like a Space blanket. The Commander didn't complain of being cold, did he?"

"No, sir." She pulled her face out of his hand. All of her muscles were tensing like that had earlier in the night when she'd first felt the "fight or flight impulse". However, this time she was not preparing to run.

"So you weren't trying to warm him up. Fair enough. Well then I guess I'll just have to assume that the half-Vulcan with his naughty alien mind tricks forced himself on you…Well, forced you on him." He smirked at his wording as if it were all a joke. Nyota took offense at the Commander's indications about Spock moreso than his unwanted attentions.

"Of course not. Never."

Thompson leaned back on the desk a little. "Then, this little late night rendezvous was consensual? That is, of course, very good to know. Sexual harassment is such a tricky, nasty business. Lots of paperwork."

Finally, they weren't beating around the bush. She could do truth, she could do honesty.

"Consensual. Yes, sir."

The commander crossed his arms, and for the first time during the entire interrogation, Thompson looked irritated.

"For some reason that's even sadder. I thought women were supposed to be respectable and powerful in their own skin…They didn't need a man to get to the top these days…"

"Sir, this has nothing to do with grades or career advancement."

"Oh of course not" Thompson rolled his eyes. "I guess the only other option is that the green demon isn't quite as logical as we all thought…Vulcans are supposed to be logical, of course. I would call Commander Spock false advertising."

"You are trying to back me into a corner, Commander."

It was a small laugh, a dark curse. "That's not a bad idea, actually."

Her muscles clenched again. There was something in his eyes. "What?"

"Do you want to be the slut of the fleet? See that robot elf of yours humiliated?"

"No."

This time the commander leaned down over her, putting both of his arms on either side of her chair. He was only inches away from her face now. The smell of spearmint hit her nose, and Nyota could see a mint rolling around inside the commander's mouth. When he spoke again, it was low and menacing.

"See, I'm an instant gratification kind of guy, Miss Uhura…I thought I'd let Spock think he was going to get away with this little tryst and then spring a little extortion on him in a month or so, but…frankly…that's boring."

"Please, take a step back away from me."

He shook his head and actually leaned closer to her. "I see a pretty easy way to keep this out of the limelight and let everyone keep their reputations intact."

"And…" Her voice was small, weak; a whisper when she needed fire.

"Does the Vulcan mind sharing?" He practically purred.

"Commander…"

The moment hung in the air as if laced with a poison gas. Nyota felt like if she even took a breath it would mean her death. He was too close, much too close. Thompson's eyes were green, she realized, when she'd believed them to be blue before.

"I'll ruin you, Cadet. It's your choice."

"Spock will--"

"Spock's not here, doll. It's just you and me and good old blackmail."

Nyota spat in the commander's face, experiencing a moment of true joy that she could make him as disgusted as he had made her feel. He wiped off the spitting with fury.

"I'd rather be the rumored slut of the fleet than the confirmed one, sir."

Thompson's eyes flashed. "I'm not giving you options, Cadet."

And then he was there, on her, over her, everywhere.

* * *

Author's note. Cliffhanger, YAY. Anyways, thanks for reading, sorry I had a trip of a week and didn't get to reply as many as I usually do. If you get a chance, check out my other fics: **The Boldly Go** series and my new fic **Pride of the Fleet**.


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